Signs of old age #2

You go into the kitchen, open the fridge and then find yourself staring into the fridge not knowing what you were looking for in it.

Klisenya adalah "Ala orang perempuan kalau bawa kereta itulah jadinya"

Pagi tadi selepas bersarapan dan ber bai-bai bersama ibubapa dan kucing-kucing saya (selalunya mereka akan menyorok di balik langsir di pintu gelongsor kaca) saya keluar rumah dan memasuki kereta. Saya hidupkan enjin. Ada bunyi yang sungguh kuat dan berdesing yang kedengaran. Hmm. Ini bunyi air-cond belt. Saya tunggu lama sedikit, manalah tahu kalau dibiarkan berputar sebentar mungkin pergerakan tali sawat penghawa dingin itu akan lebih lancar. Namun tidak berhasil. Bunyi bingit tetap ada.

Buntu sekejap fikiran. Selama beberapa minit saya hanya mampu duduk dan memandang ke luar dengan pandangan kosong. Lagak gaya seperti orang yang baru putus cinta. Tapi sebenarnya hanya putus akal memikirkan apa yang patut dilakukan.

Hawa dingin mula memenuhi ruang dalam kereta. Saya terpandang ke arah radio dan teringat yang ianya belum dipasang lagi. Lagu pertama yang berkumandang adalah lagu Beyoncé kesukaan saya. Saya kuatkan bunyi radio. Susah nak nyanyikan lagu ini. Pernah saya cuba menyanyikannya semasa berkaraoke bersama kawan-kawan tapi kesudahannya semput dada.

Bunyi aircond belt tidak kedengaran lagi. Saya senyum, lepaskan brek dan memulakan perjalanan ke tempat kerja dengan hati yang lega. Senang saja rupanya nak mengatasi masalah bunyi tadi.

Cuma tadi ada pemandu kereta di kiri-kanan saya saya yang memandang ke kereta saya semasa berhenti di lampu trafik. Dan sekali-sekala ada penunggang motosikal yang menunjuk ke arah enjin kereta saya.

Jangan lupa buat assignment Madame

Hari ini Bandar Baru Bangi seperti pekan koboi. Agak lengang. Mungkin ramai yang masih lagi bercuti atau dalam perjalanan pulang. Cuaca pula mendung dan kadangkala hujan renyai, menambahkan lagi kepada suasana melankoli yang saya rasai. Tetapi nostalgia berkenaan apa pun saya tidak tahu, tiba-tiba perasaan ini muncul. Perubahan hormon barangkali.

Anak-anak murid saya pula semuanya sedang menikmati cuti seminggu mereka. Mungkin ada yang bersantai di rumah bersama keluarga. Mungkin ada yang pergi makan angin. Mungkin ada yang mengambil kesempatan untuk mengulangkaji. Saya harap mereka dapat menggunakan masa seminggu ini sebaik-baiknya untuk melakukan apa-apa perkara yang perlu dibereskan supaya mereka akan kembali dengan semangat baru untuk meneruskan pengajian hingga ke akhir semester.

Apa-apa pun, n'oubliez pas votre devoir de français que vous devez me rendre la semaine prochaine!

Baling batu sembunyi tangan (atau mungkin saya sudah tersilap peribahasa)

There's this person whom I've added in my Facebook as a friend who perplex me. He loves to comment other people's status. He enjoys commenting other people's photos. Komen panjang berjela sampai boleh dibaca sebagai cerita pendek. He writes on other people's walls on a regular basis. So far this is all normal stuff. Ini sesuatu yang biasa bagi seorang pengguna Facebook tegar.

And he does so on my wall too. But sometimes this person writes comments that I deem somewhat inappropriate given the fact that he does not know me that well. Maybe he thinks it's cool. Or maybe he thinks it's funny. I find it offensive. To the point where I have had to delete a few of them from my FB wall. I even thought of deleting him from my list of friends.

Then one fine day I decided to write on his wall. I actually had the intention of telling him not to post anything on my wall that others (as well as myself) might find deragotary. I mean, try not to use the f**k word in every sentence. Nak tulis guna slanga ala African American tapi English grammar berterabur. Itu yang aku lagi sakit mata bila baca.

Well anyway back to my story when I visited his FB wall I was surprised to find that he has disabled all wall postings or comments. Meaning to say I can't write on his like he did on mine. Hmmm. Apa ni brader. Tak jantan langsung. Come on la.

Mano a mano la bro. Barulah adil dan saksama.

Can't you handle the truth? Or do you have something to hide?

Does the sum of all chicken parts make one whole bird?

She stood on her tiptoes and looked up at rows of packed chicken parts at the meat section of the supermarket. All the odd shapes and sizes fascinated her.

"Mummy why don't they sell the whole chicken?"
"Well honey some people don't need to buy the whole bird. Maybe sometimes they just want to buy some chicken wings for their barbecue." And she pointed to the 1kg pack of wings.
"Oh. They look so different from Grandma's chickens."

She was familiar with the sights of her grandmother's hens running around the chicken coop whenever they visit her during Hari Raya. Sometimes they tried to peck her fingers if she got too close to their chicks.

At home as she helped her Mummy take out the groceries from the car, her little mind conjured up images of 8 winged chickens flying in the air, making their way to the slaughterhouse to be processed into packs of 8 or 16, ready for the barbecue or the grill. Mmmm oh yes now she remembered. Her Mummy's deep fried wings were the best in the world!